Hastur Lord (51 page)

“They were quick enough to promote the notion of a
cristoforo
king,” Linnea said darkly. “Some of Rinaldo’s new ‘councillors’ produced historical records that the Hasturs had once held the throne.”

Regis felt a sudden, heavy tension in his jaw muscles. “Of course, no Elhalyn candidate came forth to protest.”

“This isn’t an usurpation in the strict legal sense. Rinaldo took the matter to a senior judge of the Cortes, who ruled that he has a legitimate claim.”

“The same judge, no doubt, who presided at the crowning.”

Linnea raised one slender eyebrow. “Along with every Comyn in the city . . . except you.”

Regis had hoped his absence might have gone unnoticed. He had not planned on missing such a public event.

“Of course,” Linnea said, “we were both expected to attend the ceremony. I cannot tell you how tempted I was! In the end, though, we both declined with regrets.”

“Hmmm. How did you manage that?”

A smile twinkled behind her eyes. “With dexterous diplomacy, worthy of the most convoluted Tower politics. A touch of milk-fever required my seclusion and your attendance on me. The refusal was remarked, of course. For several days, I expected a summons for you to present yourself and explain.”

“But none came?”

She shrugged. “It seemed my subterfuge had been successful, or Rinaldo was so occupied with his own concerns that other things took precedence.”

“My brother would not overlook my refusal to witness his coronation and thereby endorse it. Another Comyn would use such a lapse as grounds for a blood feud.”

“Rinaldo was . . . annoyed. Disappointed. Furious. Incredulous. Concerned. All in turn, and no reaction lasting very long. Still, you should tread lightly.”

“That is, until this mockery of a kingship has been nullified and things put to rights.”

Linnea got up and moved restlessly about the brightly lit chamber. She seemed a fey, wild creature, and Regis realized that he did not know her well. They had had a few brief, intense encounters and a short span of married life, little more.

“Just because Rinaldo’s coronation was hasty and unexpected does not mean it can be easily undone,” she remarked. “Unless he himself chooses to abdicate, he is King of the Domains. Or would you set aside law and tradition because the particular personalities do not meet with your approval?”

She was right. He must not waste time and resources on the colossal anachronism of a king in this age. He must try to understand Rinaldo’s intentions, reason with him, and guide him. And if he could not . . .

Regis surged to his feet and strode to the window. He looked over the walls to the city beyond. “What about my brother’s court? Who has replaced Gabriel as Guards Commander?”

“At first, it was to be Haldred Ridenow, but at the last minute, Rinaldo changed his mind and appointed Bertram Monterey.”

“I don’t know him.”

“He’s only a junior officer, but he is a devoted
cristoforo
and absolutely loyal to Rinaldo.”

“How is Gabriel taking all this? And my sister?”

“Javanne expected you to storm the Castle and rescue her daughter, and when you didn’t . . .” Linnea winced.

My poor sister, to have lost two children. First Mikhail to me as my heir, then Ariel . . .
“Do you now fault me for seeing to Stelli’s safety first?”

“I have not changed my mind. You did the only thing you could, no matter how disappointed Javanne might be.”

“I suppose you will now remind me of the impossibility of eating nuts without breaking their shells.” Regis could not mask the anguish in his voice.

Linnea’s brows drew together, troubled but resolute. “If it had been Stelli instead of Ariel in Rinaldo’s clutches, I might
feel
differently, but I would
think
the same.”

“I wish my sister had your strength of mind. I fear she will never forgive me for betraying the bonds of our kinship.”

“There is an even greater reason for me to remain here, despite the risk,” Linnea said with quiet intensity. “Regis, you act as if the weight of the world rested on you alone.”

“The failure is mine,” he said stubbornly. “So must the remedy be.”

Linnea regarded him with that deep, searching gaze, but she made no attempt to breach the fragile shell of his isolation.

A heartbeat later, he had gathered himself. “Given what you just told me, I must waste no more time in dealing with my brother.”

“What will you do?”

“Try to reason with him, certainly. He must be brought to see this concentration of power cannot be good for Darkover.”

“And if he will not listen to you? What then?”

“I will fly that hawk when his pinions are grown,” Regis retorted. “Do you mean to cripple me with prophecies of failure?”

She sighed but did not argue further.

Regis went to make himself presentable for a visit to the Castle. He did not know what awaited him or what arguments or actions he might be forced to take. If Rinaldo would not listen to reason, what then?

B
y the time Regis arrived at Comyn Castle, he had acquired an escort of three off-duty City Guardsmen, all seasoned officers. The sincerity with which they offered him their service as an honor guard bespoke their hope that now all things would be put right. Eventually, Regis would need a paxman, and Gabriel might be willing, but in the urgency of the moment, these volunteers provided the necessary security.

The three Guardsmen sliced through knots of pedestrians. Even the occasional rider steered clear, so they made much better time than Regis could have on his own.

They passed the outer gates of Comyn Castle and entered an open-air courtyard. In summer, the garden would be a haven of flowers and arching green branches. Now the benches were rain- wet, and the buds of the branches had only begun to open. The place seemed to be holding its breath.

The three Guardsmen who had attached themselves to Regis, although none had been on active duty since the coronation, were well informed. At this hour Rinaldo was within the Castle, not visiting one of the many new
cristoforo
shrines about the city. The new king held court daily in the same elegant hall used for his wedding, adjacent to the Grand Ballroom.

Regis would have preferred a private place where each might speak in confidence, most likely the study that Regis still though of as his grandfather’s. He had not anticipated the effect of Rinaldo’s newly royal status.

A pair of Castle Guards stood at attention outside the Grand Ballroom. They looked barely more than cadets, and they offered no objection as their senior officers escorted Regis through.

The hall had been newly furbished with hangings and carpets. Paintings and sculptures of various
cristoforo
holy images, many of them gilded or bejeweled, dotted the walls. Between these religious objects and tapestries that looked as if they had recently been dragged from the Castle storage rooms, there was hardly an inch of bare wall. Regis, who had never cared for ornate embellishments, felt as if the true beauty of the place, the stones so beautifully cut and placed, and the panels of translucent blue, had been crusted over and obscured.

Regis drew himself up. The decoration was trivial, although it revealed much about the man who had ordered it. He must not allow it to distract him from his own purpose.

With his escort on each side and behind him, Regis marched down the central aisle. Onlookers stared as he passed. The faint, rankling buzz of a telepathic damper blurred his
laran
senses.

A dais had been erected at the far end. Rinaldo occupied the massive carved chair used by Danvan Hastur when he presided over meetings of the Comyn Council. In fact, Regis realized, the configuration of the room approximated that of the Crystal Chamber. The arrangement of the seating formed a roughly octagonal shape, angled toward the throne. Rinaldo seemed to be saying,
As the Comyn once ruled the Domains, I do now.

The assembly drew back as Regis approached. He knew some of them, city dignitaries, members of the Telepath Council, and a few minor Comyn. All were formally dressed, and many looked pleased with themselves.

Rinaldo’s courtiers are showing off, vying for power and royal favor,
Regis thought with disgust. Here and there, he heard whispers and expressions of surprise.

Ignoring several attempts at greeting, Regis drew near the dais. Rinaldo was wearing a long robe in Hastur colors, the fir tree embroidered in silver thread. His belt and ornamental chain were of gleaming copper. A crown perched on his head, bright with Ardcarran rubies and sapphires. Danilo stood in the proper position of a paxman, features waxen, mouth set. His eyes came to life when he saw Regis, but he gave no other sign of recognition.

A man in a suit of opulent bronze brocade knelt at Rinaldo’s feet, hands placed in the attitude of a vassal pledging his loyalty. Rinaldo bent forward, his face intent. A
cristoforo
priest, who had been standing beside the dais, came forward.

Regis slowed his pace. The ceremony was akin to that used among the Comyn from ancient times. Regis himself had, at various occasions, both given and accepted oaths in just this fashion, but never with the participation of a priest . . .

The meaning of the ritual became evident a moment later: The new vassal had just publicly converted to the
cristoforo
faith. Regis set his jaw to suppress a shudder. In Darkover’s long past, kings and re-gents and Comyn lords had demanded—and received—fidelity of word and deed, even unto death. A man’s religious beliefs were matters for his own conscience. They had never been the price of royal patronage.

The ceremony concluded as Regis reached the dais. Rinaldo’s head jerked up, his expression momentarily unreadable. The newly sworn liegeman withdrew with alacrity.

Regis schooled his features into a pleasant smile and bowed. He lowered himself to the exact degree due to a kinsman of slightly higher rank. It was the salutation of a Comyn lord to the Head of his Domain, nothing more. How easily such niceties came to him, but, then, he had been drilled in the intricacies of Comyn politics since the time he could walk. If the nuances were lost on Rinaldo, they would be obvious to those few Comyn present.

“Regis! Brother!” Rinaldo exclaimed. “Where have you—I mean—we bid you welcome!”

Regis permitted himself an answering smile. “It gladdens my heart to see you well, my brother. Or should I say, Your Majesty?”

“It seems we have much to say to one another.”

“Then we had best do so privately.”

Rinaldo surged to his feet and raised his voice, addressing the assembly. “No more for today! Out, all of you!” As he strode out the door behind the dais, he barely managed to avoid knocking over the startled priest. Danilo followed closely, as a paxman should. Regis thought he saw a fleeting smile lighten Danilo’s mouth.

Rinaldo rushed along the Castle corridors at such a pace that Regis did not catch up with him and Danilo until they halted outside the study door.

“You’re not needed,” Rinaldo snarled at Danilo.

“As you wish,
vai dom,
” Danilo bowed with impeccable grace and backed away.

Rinaldo slammed the door and rounded on Regis. “What do you mean, disappearing without a word and then returning in such an ostentatious manner, interrupting my court?”

Regis made sure his own voice was under steady control. “I should as soon ask you, my brother, what
you
mean by defying custom in claiming the throne no Hastur has wanted for generations. I might inquire whether you feel yourself more worthy than Grandfather,”
or myself, for that matter,
“or what sudden and overpowering need our people have for a king. But none of these questions will accomplish anything except to widen the rift between us.”

“If there is a rift,” Rinaldo said tightly, “it is
your
doing. You promised to advise me, and then you vanished! My agents could not find you anywhere! Where did you go? With whom did you meet?”

His eyes narrowed.
“What exactly were you up to?”

Regis had never before heard such naked hostility in his brother’s voice. “Let us sit down and discuss matters like civilized men.”

Trying to appear more calm than he felt, Regis walked over to the two chairs before the hearth, thus drawing Rinaldo away from the desk. There was no point in placing such an imposing piece of furniture between them; it would only serve to heighten the antagonism.

Rinaldo hesitated for a moment, then threw himself into one of the chairs. He was clearly angry at having lost the initiative.

Regis moved into the breach. “I was attending to necessary family business, if you must know. Am I not free to do so? Or do you intend to take care of our entire Domain single-handedly?”

When Rinaldo glared at him, Regis shifted to a more conciliatory tone. “You trust me enough to ask for my advice. Can you not trust me to handle my own affairs and fulfill my other responsibilities?”

Rinaldo had the grace to look abashed. “I was wrong to be angry when I did not understand. I had thought—erroneously, I see—you would be by my side. Everyone said it was an insult that you did not attend my coronation.”

“I am here now, and we have much to discuss. How did it come about that you are now king? What crisis required such a drastic step?”

“If you are going to lecture me on how change takes time, save your breath!” Rinaldo snapped. “I have already heard more of such nonsense than I can stomach. I have been charged with the spiritual welfare of our people. The rightness of my calling has been verified by miracles—or do you think an
emmasca
siring a son is an event that happens every day?”